


Misunderstanding

by Red Dragon (Red_Dragonn)



Series: Steelcutter Stories [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (my canon. because hes my character), Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dubious Consent, Injury, M/M, Misunderstandings, Original Character(s), Propaganda, Size Difference, Size Kink, dont take it too seriously, literally tho this concept is very much crack, lying, not asking for help, steelcutter is a lying liar who lies this is canon, steelcutter should uhhh stop lying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 10:59:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15387315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Dragonn/pseuds/Red%20Dragon
Summary: steelcutter is both needlessly stubborn and uncomfortably naive, and this is...uh...a problem





	Misunderstanding

SC-012 was very good at listening.

All things considered, he had to be. It wasn’t like there was anything else he could do. He didn’t have a vocalizer, and he didn’t have a mouth, and he didn’t have  _ hands, _ and he couldn’t move--he didn’t have anything that would even make it clear he was a living mech, let alone that he had opinions. So instead, he listened, and he learned.

“Those Decepticons,” said Argonos, one of the mechs who generally operated the belt that SC-012 had to split down the middle. “You hear what they said about their leader?”

“Nah,” said the other mech, Ignious. “But you’re gonna tell me, right?”

“They said he’s a  _ miner _ ,” Argonos said. “Like us.”

“Bullslag. He’s a gladiator, isn’t he?”

“You and me both know that’s illegal. Supposedly he still even looks like one of us.” Argonos rapped a digit against the pointed tip of his helm. “Wears one of these buckets and everything.”

“Bull _ slag _ . These friends of yours are lying to you.”

“That’s the thing, Iggy. I saw it on the  _ newsfeeds _ . _ ” _

“Like slag you did.”

“It was on one of those slagging neighborhood watch alerts. The enforcer-funded ones.”

“You’re fragging trying to pull one over on me, Argo.”

“No, listen, I’m serious. I gotta be real with you, i don’t know too much about the ‘cons, but they might be the real deal.”

Ignious huffed. “Sure they are.”

The overseer took that moment to come over, voice loud and harsh and angry as usual, and Ignius and Argonos stopped talking.

* * *

 

“I hear you have to frag Megatron to get into the Decepticons,” said Ignious, while Argonos was on his off-shift.

“I hear they make you fight other ‘cons,” said Crusher. 

“I hear that too,” said Igneous. 

“Supposedly you gotta read a book, too,” said Crusher. “And you mentioned the spiking thing, but that’s so fraggin’ repulsive to me. Casing said he was gonna join up with ‘em, but I can’t imagine why you’d ever do something like that.”

“I don’t know,” said Ignious. “Some mechs would sacrifice anything for what the ‘cons say they’re trying to do.”

* * *

 

“They gave me a low level glyph recognition mod,” Argonos said in a low voice.

“Who?” said Ignious.

“The Decepticons,” Argonos said. 

“You fragging went to meet them?”

“I damn well did,” Argonos said.

“Holy frag,” said Ignious. “You know the slag they say about the ‘cons.  _ And _ how to join them.”

Argonos looked a little bit uncomfortable. “I’d have to decide if it was worth it, but yeah, don’t worry. I know.”

“But they gave you a glyph recognition mod?”

“Well... _ lent _ would be more accurate, I think.”

“Argonos, you’re going to get yourself into trouble.”

“Eh.”

Ignious sighed.

* * *

 

SC-012 was perfectly capable of reading. He had to be. And because he could read, he figured he could write, and he painstakingly figured out the glyphs in his head and then transferred them to the sheet metal he was supposed to be cutting in a key pattern.

_ Help _ .

“Argonos, something’s wrong with the laser cutter,” said Ignious. “This isn’t what this is supposed to look like, is it?”

Argonos paused. “What do you mean?”

“Come here, take a look at this,” Ignious said. 

Argonos walked around the machine to the output side and then froze. “Primus.”

“Argonos?”

“Igneous, grab me the pattern card,” Argonos said, and Igneous grabbed the flat instructions screen from in front of SC-012’s lower optical sensors and handed it to him. Argonos squinted at it for a moment and then handed it back to Igneous. 

“That’s a mech.”

“What?”

“The slagging laser cutter is a mech, Iggy.”

“That’s not funny,” Ignious said. 

“That--that there, that says  _ help,” _ Argonons said, gesturing to the sheet of durasteel. “I’m slagging telling you. That’s a mech.”

“Primus,” said Igneous. “He’s bolted to the wall.”

“This is the kind of slag the Decepticons were formed because of,” Argonos said. “This is bullslag.”

“Frag, Argonos,” said Ignious. “What do we do?”

Argonos shrugged. “I have an idea. You’re going to stay as far away from me as possible for the next couple days. I don’t want you getting caught up in this.”

“What?”

Argonos looked around furtively, and then pulled the tape over his chest down to reveal a gleaming purple Decepticon insignia. “I’m going to ask for help.”

Igneous gaped at him.

“Trust me,” said Argonos. SC-012 wasn’t sure if Igneous did, but for his part, SC-012 had a good feeling about this.

* * *

 

A couple cycles later, some kind of alarm went off, and all the mechs in the refinery scattered.

Not SC-012, of course. SC-012 couldn’t move. But the mobile mechs, they ran for the hills. 

SC-012 had a  _ very  _ good feeling about this.

The lights cut out a couple of minutes later, and then in the dark, almost through an odd haze, SC-012 could see three pairs of scarlet optics peering through the room. 

“Over there,” said Argonos’s unmistakeable voice.

“On the wall?” asked someone with a low, rough drawl.

“Yep,” said Argonos.

“Stay back,” said the rough-voiced one, and he and another, slightly shorter mech all but ran to the wall where SC-012 was bolted. “You handle the bolts, I’ll manage the inhibitor.”

“Sounds good to me,” said the other, and SC-012 wasn’t sure what he did in the dark, but suddenly there was a whirring sound like he could sometimes hear in the refinery; then one of the bolts slowly came out, and a hot line of pain that SC-012 had long since stopped noticing went away. 

“Ow,” said the mech with the whirring machine quietly. “That must have hurt.”

Then another bolt came out. And another. And another. 

SC-012 couldn’t remember ever feeling this good. 

Then the last bolt came out, and he fell flat on the ground with his lower optic sensor pressed to the floor. It seemed strangely warm; almost unpleasant. That was inconvenient.

Less inconvenient was the discovery that he had another optic sensor that had been pressed to the wall. 

“Frag,” muttered the low-voiced one. “Drillhorn, can you pick him up so I can get this damn inhibitor out?”

“Yeah, I’ve got him,” the one that had to be Drillhorn said, tilting SC-012 back up with a grunt. 

“Just keep him upright,” said the low-voiced one.

“We have to hurry up,” Argonos said.

“I’m almost done,” the low-voiced one said, and then something  _ clicked _ inside of SC-012’s anterior subsection. If he had a vocalizer, he would have sighed in relief.

_ Someone  _ definitely sighed in relief, and all three of the other mechs jumped. 

“That our guy?” asked Drillhorn. 

“Probably,” said Argonos.

“I  _ hope _ so,” said the low-voiced one. “Hey. Laser. Cutting tool. Can you hear us?”

SC-012 wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he turned his laser on and the resulting red glow made all three mechs jump again. 

“We need you to transform,” said the low-voiced one.

SC-012 stared at him blankly.

“Is he not doing it on purpose, or…?” asked Drillhorn.

“No idea,” said Argonos.

“I’m going to force a transformation, then. We don’t have time for this,” said the low-voiced one. He did something in SC-012’s anterior subsection again, and then yanked his hand out real fast, and--

And suddenly SC-012 was lying in a dizzy puddle on the floor, and he had a whole bunch of conflicting sensory input, and he only had three individual sections of optical input where he used to have eleven, and he had  _ limbs _ , what was he going to do with  _ those _ , and the three mechs looked a lot bigger.

“I didn’t expect that many spikes,” said Argonos blankly.

“He’s very… small,” said the low-voiced one. 

“He’s like waist-height,” agreed Drillhorn.

SC-012 stared at the three of them.

“Hey, metal cutter, get up,” said the low-voiced one carefully. “Can you stand?”

SC-012 stared at him. 

“Can you speak?”

SC-012, who was well aware he couldn’t speak, thanks, stared at him.

“He made a noise earlier,” said Argonos.

“Have you ever been in root mode before?” the low-voiced one asked.

SC-012 didn’t even know what that meant.

“You think they didn’t let him even--?” asked Argonos.

“Might not have,” Drillhorn said, cutting him off. “You see it with minicons all the time. We need to get out before the entrances melt; just grab him, would you?”

Argonos shrugged and grabbed SC-012 around the middle, and SC-012 instinctively curled up into a ball before marveling at the fact that he could actually  _ curl up _ .

“Well, he can definitely move, at least,” Argonos said. “Where are we taking him?”

“Dunno,” said Drillhorn. “He’s your responsibility.”

Argonos looked down, optics flat. “Guess so,” he said.

* * *

 

“My name is Argonos,” Argonos said.

SC-012, who was figuring out motion, nodded.

“What is your designation?” Argonos asked.

SC-012, who had not even started to figure out speech, gave him a flat look. 

“Come on, you have to have one,” Argonos said.

SC-012 flexed all four of his hands and then held two of them out.

“What the frag does that mean?” Argonos asked.

SC-012 closed and opened his hands again. 

Argonos sighed.  _ “What _ are you  _ looking for?” _

SC-012 looked down at the table, back at his fingers, and then dug into the metal with one claw, painstakingly scratching out glyphs.  _ Write. _

Argonos blinked at him. “You want a  _ datapad?” _

SC-012 shrugged.

Argonos got up and handed him a sheet of flat metal and glass. SC-012 pressed the tip of his claw against it to scratch words into it, and the glass suddenly turned bright, glowing pale blue. A keyboard popped up on screen.

SC-012 nearly dropped it in surprise.

_ I know who you are _ , he typed.  _ You are Argonos. You speak. I listen. You are a Decepticon. You help us. _

Argonos stared at him.

“What’s your designation?”

_ SC-012 _ .

“SC?”

_ Steel Cutter class. _

“I’m calling you Steelcutter,” said Argonos.

SC-012 tried the word out in his head.

He liked it.

_ I am Steelcutter. _

“Damn right you are.”

_ I want to be a Decepticon. _

* * *

 

Steelcutter learned to speak, and he read Megatron’s book, and he learned the basic ideals of Decepticonism, and he was not discouraged.

He remembered what they kept saying in the refinery, and he was still not discouraged.

And he had plenty of free time, anyway.

So one day, while Argonos was at work, Steelcutter gathered his wits and most of his courage and went off to find Kaon and the Decepticons.

* * *

 

“Steelcutter Argonos’s minimech?” asked Drillhorn, when Steelcutter turned up at the arena.

“Yep,” said Steelcutter.

“Glad to see you’re functioning,” said Drillhorn.

Steelcutter inclined his head at him. “So where am I supposed to go?”

“Go…?”

“To join?”

Drillhorn blinked at him for a moment. “You read Towards Peace and everything?”

“Of course!” said Steelcutter.

“And you know it isn’t... _ easy _ , right? It--hurts. A lot. You’re prepared for that, little mech?”

“Would I be standing here if i wasn’t?” Steelcutter snapped.

“Fair enough,” Drillhorn said, letting out a little laugh. “You’re just--it’s been like half a decacycle. Are you sure about this?”

“I have very literally never been surer about anything,” Steelcutter said.

Drillhorn shrugged and pointed down the hall. “Go that way until you find someone important. Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, they’re the ones you want to talk to. I don’t know too much, personally.”

Steelcutter figured that since he’d need to find Megatron regardless, he would go find him, and so he inclined his head at Drillhorn and set off down the hall.

* * *

 

“Uh...Lord Megatron?” Steelcutter asked, feeling entirely dwarfed by the room. It was made to make a large mech feel small, and Steelcutter was roughly as tall as a large mech’s thigh. Steelcutter, who tended to feel small when faced with anything larger than a fellow minimech, couldn’t help but find this vaguely amusing.

Megatron--or at least the mech sitting on the throne that Steelcutter  _ assumed _ was Megatron--didn’t look amused. Megatron looked vaguely confused. “Yes?”

Steelcutter kneeled down on the floor. “I want to be a Decepticon.”

He still had an optic on top of his head, even if it was harder to focus than the other ten, and out of it he could see Megatron break out into a sharp grin.

“You haven’t taken the brand yet, have you?” Megatron asked.

“That’s why i’m here,” Steelcutter said. “Well. That and another thing. Mostly the other thing. Sir. um.”

Megatron gave him a slightly more puzzled look, shoulders tensing. “What is the ‘other thing?’”

Steelcutter could feel his face heating up. “Uh, would you...like...to frag?” he mumbled.

Megatron stared at him. “Repeat that?”

“I said,” Steelcutter said, and then went back to mumbling, “um, would you like--”

“I can barely hear you,” Megatron said impatiently.

“Would you like to frag me?” Steelcutter managed.

“What,” said Megatron.

_ Primus _ , thought Steelcutter. “I, I said--”

“I heard what you said,” said Megatron.

Steelcutter fought the urge to look up at him more clearly, lost, and tilted his head up to peer at Megatron out of his visor. The gladiator looked perplexed.

“You’re very  _ small,” _ Megatron eventually pointed out, as though somehow Steelcutter had managed to forget this.

“I’m tough!” Steelcutter said quickly. “It’s fine! I can take it.”

Megatron stopped looking perplexed and started looking slightly worried. “Stand up.”

Steelcutter did.

Megatron also stood up, and, wow, he was fragging huge. Steelcutter had assumed that Drillhorn was the biggest they got. Apparently he was wrong. Megatron was fragging massive. That was  _ unfair _ .

Steelcutter came up to the top of his knee.

Great.

“Are you  _ sure _ about this?” Megatron asked. 

Steelcutter did not cringe. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he said. It didn’t come out strangled. Definitely not.

“You can always change your mind,” Megatron said dryly.

_ And not be a Decepticon? _ “I won’t. Trust me.”

Megatron gave him an appraising look. “Can you even get on my throne, or will i have to pick you up?”

“I can do it,” Steelcutter said.

Megatron shrugged and sat back down, gesturing at the space between his thighs. “Up.”

Considering that that was roughly optic-level for Steelcutter, he got a grip with all four arms before he tried to jump up; but he didn’t get enough lift, and he was at an awkward angle, and then he wound up scrabbling at the side of the throne with his pedes. Megatron let out a chuckle and leaned down to grab Steelcutter’s entire torso with one arm, pulling him up onto the chair.

That was unfair.

That was _ hot _ .

That was  _ so  _ unfair.

“Are you sure about this?” Megatron asked again.

_ “Yes!”  _ Steelcutter snapped.

Megatron grinned at him sharply.  “Open.”

Steelcutter stared at him.

“Are you fragging--” Megatron muttered, and tapped Steelcutter on the codpiece.  _ “Open.” _

“Oh,” said Steelcutter, and then did.

“Have you ever done this before?” Megatron asked incredulously.

“...no?”

Megatron shuttered his optics for a moment. “Alright. Well. You understand the basics?”

“Yes,” Steelcutter lied.

Megatron gave him a dubious look. Steelcutter tried not to squirm.

“Do not, under any circumstances, lie to me,” Megatron said.

“I, uh,” Steelcutter said. “I’m good. Really.”

“Uh huh,” Megatron said. “Well. Sit down, brace yourself, and spread your legs. I’m spiking.”

Steelcutter did as he was told, but evidently not well enough, because Megatron sighed and put a hand on his lower back. “Would you relax?”

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” Steelcutter snapped.

“What did I tell you about lying to me?” Megatron said coolly.  _ “Relax.  _ I’m not going to hurt you.”

_ I very much doubt that. _ “I  _ am _ relaxed,” Steelcutter insisted.

“I can  _ see _ that you aren’t,” Megatron said. “Take a deep breath. You’re going to be fine.”

Steelcutter vented, because when the leader of the organization one was attempting to get into told one to do something, one  _ did it _ , and then he sighed at Megatron. “Would you please just get on with it?”

Megatron huffed. “Do you actually want this?”

“Of course I do!” Steelcutter said quickly. 

“You don’t sound like you do.”

“You aren’t  _ doing _ anything,” Steelcutter pointed out, which was true.

“You are significantly too tense, and I don’t want to hurt you,” Megatron said, which may have been true but Steelcutter wouldn’t admit that in a million vorns.

“I’ll be fine,” Steelcutter insisted.

Megatron sighed. “I don’t  _ care _ . Relax anyway. It’s not like I’ll let you fall over.”

Steelcutter wasn’t entirely sure  _ how _ to relax any more than he already was, but he made a valiant effort. Megatron gave him a deeply dissatisfied look, and then sighed. “You’ll tell me if you need me to stop.”

It was not a question, so Steelcutter just nodded.

Megatron held Steelcutter’s back a bit tighter for a moment, and then pushed his legs open just a bit wider with the other hand. Steelcutter eyed the unnecessarily large servo with just a little bit of trepidation. For frag’s sake, it was almost as large as his torso. But he was going to be a decepticon, and a little thing like ‘healthy fear’ wasn’t going to stop him.

Megatron gave him another appraising look and then took one of those needlessly large digits and pressed it directly to Steelcutter’s valve. Steelcutter suppressed an absolutely un-Decepticon-like noise of surprise and tensed up involuntarily. Megatron looked like he was about a second away from yelling.  _ “Relax _ , little mech.  _ Stop tensing up.” _

“It’s Steelcutter,” Steelcutter muttered, and tried to relax again.

_ “What _ is Steelcutter?” Megatron asked. 

“My designation,” Steelcutter said, squirming. “It’s Steelcutter. Not  _ little mech.” _

“You didn’t  _ tell _ me that,” Megatron pointed out, and pressed against his valve harder. Steelcutter entirely failed to stifle the little whine that came out of his vocalizer this time. Megatron grinned sharply and twitched his finger up again.

With a quiet whirr, Steelcutter’s cooling fans clicked on.

Megatron’s grin got, somehow, sharper.

“Are you going to do anything other than  _ poke _ at me?” Steelcutter managed to whine at him. 

“Have a little patience, Steelcutter,” Megatron said. “I told you already. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Steelcutter responded to that by grinding down on the finger pressed to the outside of his valve. This was taking significantly longer than he’d expected.

Megatron gave him an unimpressed look and did something with the tip of his finger, pretty much  _ burrowing _ , which made perfect sense, but it didn’t feel all that nice, and honestly it hurt rather a lot, and Steelcutter clenched his dentae and stiffened up again.

“Steelcutter,” Megatron said. 

Steelcutter ex-vented and tried to relax again. 

“Much better,” Megatron said, and shifted his finger around again. Steelcutter let out a little pained hiss at that, and Megatron stopped again.

“Are you  _ sure _ you’re okay?”

“I’m good,” Steelcutter gritted out. “Keep going.”

Megatron looked like he was going to say something to that, but then he shrugged his shoulders a bit and went back to moving his finger.

Steelcutter, for his part, gritted his dentae and tried not to tense up despite the fact that that  _ fragging hurt _ . But he was going to be a Decepticon. So he couldn’t back out now. 

Eventually it stopped hurting quite so much, and Steelcutter was pretty sure his valve was adjusting to the fit, and then Megatron took a  _ second finger _ and slowly tried to slide it in with the first, and Steelcutter grabbed at the hand holding him up and tried not to  _ scream _ .

“Are you okay?” Megatron asked, again.

“I’m good,” Steelcutter lied, again. Unconvincingly. At this point, he’d figured Megatron had somewhat given up on his responses, but instead the massive silver mech pulled his second finger back. 

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive,” Steelcutter insisted weakly.

“Steelcutter.”

“I’m good!” Steelcutter said. “Keep going.”

“You  _ will  _ tell me if it’s too much, right?”

“Definitely,” Steelcutter lied.

Megatron pushed his second finger back in. 

Steelcutter bit down on his glossa hard enough to draw beads of energon and tried to shift around, looking for  _ some _ fragging position that didn’t feel like there was a chunk of metal attempting to split him in half. This was difficult, because there were, in fact,  _ two  _ such chunks of metal. Steelcutter wasn’t enjoying this. 

Megatron got the second finger wedged in and started to slide it back and forth. “Would. You. Relax?”

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” Steelcutter just about squealed.

“Right,” Megatron said, and stopped. “You’re going to get  _ hurt.” _

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Steelcutter insisted.

Megatron glanced up at the ceiling, paused, and then nodded. “Fine. Relax.”

He started moving his fingers again. 

Steelcutter took a deep vent, and then another one, and another one, and tried to relax more. He didn’t notice a difference, but Megatron gave him an approving look, so he figured that was good enough. Of course, that didn’t make this stop fragging  _ hurting _ , but Steelcutter figured that was besides the point.

He offlined his optics, all eleven of them, and leaned back and tried to wait for it to end.

“Hey,” Megatron said carefully, an unknowable measurement of time later. He’d started doing something different with his fingers at some point, not that Steelcutter took much notice beyond the fact that it  _ fragging hurt _ , but when he stopped it didn’t feel like his fingers were quite so overwhelmingly large. “Steelcutter. Still okay?”

“Fine,” Steelcutter said. 

Megatron pulled his fingers out.

Steelcutter, out of a sense of morbid curiosity, onlined two of his optics to see if he was bleeding. It didn’t look like it. 

He offlined his optics again, and then hurriedly onlined all of them as he was lifted straight into the fragging air. “What--”

Megatron gave him a flat look. “What?”

“What are you doing?” Steelcutter asked, trying desperately to keep the whine out of his voice.

Megatron wordlessly looked down, arching an optic ridge. “I would have thought that was obvious. Spread your legs.”

Steelcutter looked down and directly at a spike.

He figured that proportionally, it was a normal sized spike. Maybe a bit large. Probably not. But considering that it was almost the length of his  _ entire fragging torso _ , it looked insanely fragging huge to Steelcutter.

But Megatron was the leader of the Decepticons, so he didn’t exactly have a  _ choice _ , so he did as he was told and spread his legs and tried not to cringe visibly.

“Do you need a minute?” Megatron asked.

“I’m fine,” Steelcutter said.

Megatron sighed. “Are you  _ sure about that? _ I don’t  _ mind.” _

That was tempting, it really was, but Steelcutter really just wanted to get this over with at this point. “No. Go ahead.”

Megatron slipped a thumb under Steelcutter’s chin and tilted his head up. “Are you sure  _ you _ want to keep going?”

“I’m good, really,” Steelcutter insisted.

Megatron nodded and then slowly, carefully, lowered Steelcutter onto his spike.

Steelcutter did not scream. It was a near thing. It hurt and his valve already hurt from the fingers and it was  _ bigger than both fingers _ and it may have been less square but that didnt make it all that much more comfortable because Steelcutter  _ hurt _ and he tensed up, and Megatron paused, holding him halfway on the spike. “Relax. Deep breath. Need me to stop?”

Steelcutter forced himself to go limp. “Fine. I’m fine. Keep going.”

Megatron slowly started lowering him again.  _ Frag _ it hurt. His optics burned, so he shuttered them, and he bit his glossa to keep from sounding too obvious. A red alert popped up in his field of vision, something about capacity, and he ignored it. It would end soon. He just had to finish this. Then he was going to get the brand and be a Decepticon. He could do it.

Megatron pulled him to the point where his valve stretched agonizingly around the base of his spike, and then stopped again. “Still good?”

Steelcutter went to say something and wound up with an incoherent whine instead.

“Relax,” Megatron said. Holding him upright carefully. “You’re alright. Tell me when you’re good.”

Steelcutter whined again, louder.  _ Just get it over with. _

_ “Relax.”  _ Megatron ordered again.

Steelcutter very much could not relax, but he tried. It didn’t work all that well. He felt like he was being impaled. Oh, right, because he  _ fragging was _ .  He tried to pull himself together, he really did, but after two more utter and complete failures to speak in anything but a whine, the frustration and the awful pain overcame him and he could feel lubricant pearling up at the edges of his visor.

“Hey, no, Steelcutter,” Megatron said, voice startlingly gentle. “Hey. it’s alright. Do you need off?”

Steelcutter considered this and then shook his head no. 

“Are you telling me the truth?”

Steelcutter very slowly shook his head no again. 

Megatron sighed and pulled him off of his spike. Steelcutter didn’t curl up into a ball, but only out of a force of extreme will. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I would have been fine,” Steelcutter said, voice hoarse. 

Megatron stared at him. “Did you honestly enjoy any of this?”

“I did,” Steelcutter said, and it wasn’t even really a lie. “I was fine. I swear. I just needed to...adjust. Or something.”

“Adjust or something,” Megatron repeated blankly. 

“Uh. Yeah.”

“I spent nearly a cycle trying to prep you,” Megatron said.

“A cycle,” Steelcutter said blankly. “Um. It didn’t seem that long?”

Megatron sighed. “This can be the end, if you like.”

_ Wait. frag.  _ “Is this enough? Are you satisfied?”

Megatron gave him a confused look. “No?”

“Then I’m not done,” Steelcutter said resolutely. 

“I am not going to push you into this,” Megatron said. “You don’t have to keep going.”

Steelcutter shook his head. “You’re  _ not _ . I’m just. I’m doing this willingly. Alright?”

Megatron vented, ex-vented, and then sighed. “This time, would you  _ tell me _ when you need me to stop instead of crying?”

Steelcutter nodded.

Megatron settled him back on top of his spike,

Which was still fragging huge, but not  _ exactly _ as painful. Not as much. Not pleasant, for fragging certain, but it wasn’t the same metal-bending agony as before.

Megatron probably intended to watch Steelcutter carefully, but now that Steelcutter had his optics open, he could see how blissed-out the Decepticon leader looked. 

“Still good?” Megatron asked, a bit of the way down. 

“Fine,” Steelcutter said back, which was technically true.

Megatron paused. “Keep going?”

“Yeah,” Steelcutter said, like an idiot.

Megatron kept going.

Steelcutter bit down on his glossa and tried to relax before Megatron could tell him to, because okay, that hurt, that still hurt, a fragging lot, but like frag was he going to say so. And Megatron,  _ again _ , pulled him to the bottom of his spike; then he paused again. “Still good?”

“Mhm,” Steelcutter managed. Miraculusly, it was just a bit less torturous. 

“Yes or no,” Megatron said. 

“Y-- yes,” Steelcutter forced out. Like a liar. “Good.”

“Good,” Megatron said. “Is that  _ true?” _

“I s-said I wouldn’t,” Steelcutter said. “Said I wouldn’t lie about this again.”

It was technically true, after all.

Megatron hummed and pulled him up. “Relax. Breathe. You’re going to be alright, Steelcutter.”

Steelcutter did as he was told, because one did that when one was being told what to do by the leader of the decepticons; then he offlined his optics and waited.

Megatron, who appeared to have gotten impatient, which Steelcutter figured was significantly more than fair, started to pull Steelcutter’s entire body along the length of his spike, pulling him up and down. It hurt. A fragging lot. Steelcutter figured it was significantly preferable to just being held down and fragged like the way the data webs liked to show this sort of thing, though, so instead he grabbed Megatron’s servo and hung on for dear life. Red alerts broke out over his HUD every once in a while, but Steelcutter didn’t pay attention. He couldn’t force himself to care. 

_ It‘s interesting _ , he thought, almost detached.  _ It doesn’t hurt less, but it hurts different. I can live with this _ .

And then Megatron finished and pulled him off, and there were red alerts all over his field of vision, and he set Steelcutter down and Steelcutter, exhausted and dazed and in all sorts of pain, curled up in between Megatron’s thighs instead of standing and onlined his optics dizzily.

Megatron looked  _ worried _ . “Are you functional?”

Steelcutter nodded.

“Can you stand?”

Steelcutter nodded again, and tried to force himself to his feet. Another of those red alerts went off, and then his knees buckled ominously and he slumped back over onto the floor.  _ Something something energon loss, something something internal tears, something something _ .

“Are you injured?” Megatron asked.

Steelcutter pushed himself to his feet and then fell over a second time. “I guess?”

Megatron sighed. “Do you need help?”

“No!” Steelcutter said quickly. “No. I’m good. I--”

“You can’t stand,” Megatron said pointedly.

“I’m fine,” Steelcutter insisted.

“Then stand up,” Megatron said.

Steelcutter pulled himself to his feet for a third time, and then his optic sensors all turned off for a moment and when they onlined again he was held in a rapidly more and more concerned-looking Megatron’s hands. “Steelcutter?”

“I tripped,” Steelcutter said unconvincingly.

“I doubt that,” Megatron said. “Look, I commed a medic. You’re going to be okay, alright? I don’t like when my decepticons are hurt.”

“I’m one of your Decepticons?” Steelcutter asked.

“If i have any say in it, you will be,” Megatron said.

* * *

 

Steelcutter may have been exhausted, and the medic asked uncomfortable questions, but by the end of the day he was fine and he had a decepticon brand, and that was enough.

He caught the train and went home.

* * *

 

“Where’ve you been?” Argonos asked when Steelcutter stepped through the door. 

“I got into the Decepticons,” said Steelcutter.

Argonos gave him a more appraising look. “Looks like the Decepticons got into you,” he said, and grinned. 

“Yeah,” Steelcutter said. 

Argonos paused. “What?”

“Well, yeah,” Steelcutter said, flashing him an absolutely exhausted grin. “Kind of par for the course, isn’t it?”

“What,” said Argonos.

“Since that’s part of getting in, and all,” Steelcutter said.

_ “What,”  _ said Argonos. “That’s not--Steelcutter, who told you that?”

Steelcutter stared at him. “What?”

“All you had to do was read Towards Peace and take the brand,” Argonos said, voice low and  _ just _ a tad angry. “Who told you that you had to, to, to do  _ that?” _

“The….overseer...at the refinery,” said Steelcutter. “And, um, a few conversations I heard Ignious have…”

“You could have just asked me,” Argonos said. “Look, are you alright? This--you were alright with this?”

Steelcutter sighed. “I knew what I was getting into when I went and did it,” he said. “I’m fine. Seriously. I guess I’m a little annoyed, but I got a free cube out of it, and I’m not all that much worse for wear.”

“Alright,” Argonos said. 

“I guess,” Steelcutter mused, flopping down on the floor, “I guess this explains why Megatron looked so perplexed at first.”

Argonos stared at him. 

Steelcutter curled up a bit more comfortably. His entire lower half still ached, thanks. 

“Megatron,” Argonos repeated.

“Yes, Megatron,” Steelcutter said.

_ “Megatron,”  _ Argonos said again.

“That’s what I said.”

_ “You,” _ Argonos said. “You got spiked by  _ Megatron?  _ You aren’t even big enough to see eye to eye with his spike!”

Steelcutter huffed. “It still happened.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Steelcutter made himself a little more comfortable on the floor and didnt answer.


End file.
